Reaping Affection
by Person4
Summary: Susan is depressed on the holidays, and Death decided that since playing matchmaker worked so well with her parents he'd try it again.
1. Chapter One: Invitation

Reaping Affection  
Chapter One  
  
I own nothing. I only wish I did  
  
UPDATE: I'd like to apologise to everyone who read this chapter with it's complete lack of paragraph spaces. I hadn't realized that the last time I'd fiddled with it I'd somehow removed all the breaks, and I hadn't checked to see that the document came out nicely on ff.n after uploading. I'm so sorry to everyone whose enjoyment of the fic was thrown off by the lack of spacing.  
  
* * *  
  
It was almost Hogwatch, a time when most people would be full of holiday cheer and love for all mankind (or dwarfkind, trollkind, or even vampirekind, depending on who we're focusing on at any given moment). It was widely believed that anyone unhappy during this time of the year was a most sad and pathetic individual indeed.  
  
In a secluded corner in Biers Susan Sto Helit sighed and ordered another drink. There were already over a dozen glasses in front of her but, other then the fact she no longer bothered sticking to clear drinks, she didn't seem in the least affected by them. This was just the newest in the list of ways genetics had screwed with her life, passing on her grandfather's near complete inability to get drunk. One day soon, she hoped, it would decide she was Death-like enough and stop popping up with a new trait or two every couple of years. Hopefully before she lost her flesh for good.  
  
"Er, Miss..."   
  
Susan looked up from her drink into Igor's apologetic (if nightmare-inducingly twisted) face. "Yes Igor?"  
  
"The Patrician's Hogwatch ball starts in about an hour. You told me to remind you...?"  
  
"Oh. Yes." She glared hard at the clock over the bar as if wondering whether it would be worth putting off leaving, then sighed and stood up. "I suppose I have to go." She pulled out enough money to pay for her drinks and handed it over. "See you tomorrow Igor," she called over her shoulder while making her way to the door.  
  
As she began to trudge her way through the snow towards home she briefly considered moving out of time, then grimaced and decided against it. That was too likely to catch _his_attention, which was the last thing she needed.  
  
And this damn year had been so wonderful too! Gawain was in her class now, and she hadn't realized how much she'd missed the Gaiter children until she was around him so often during the day again. She and her grandfather had been getting closer, since she'd realized that if she wanted to have a real relationship with Lobsang she'd have to embrace the unhuman side of her instead of just using it when needed (such as while teaching a classful of children), which had always been the thing which made her keep her distance. And, for the first time ever, she'd though she might be falling in--  
  
She forced her mind away from that path. It's not like it mattered now, since three nights ago Lobsang had sat her down for a heart to heart talk wherein he'd revealed that he wanted them to start seeing other people. He'd said he was worried they together more because of what they were then _who_ they were. That while he was sure they'd end up together one day, for right now they really needed to go off and have a fling or two to test the strength of what they felt for each other.  
  
The only way it could have gotten worse is if he'd paraded out Patina or someone and told her he'd found he had a thing for girls with penguins.  
  
_Two weeks before Hogwatch_ she thought in a mental growl, _Two bloody weeks before Hogwatch. He couldn't have waited until the holidays had passed? He couldn't have at least waited a few more days so I wouldn't be alone at this damned ball?_  
  
She'd never believed she could be the sort to get this bent out of shape over a man. She'd always considered girls that did to be soppy little idiots without a grain of sense in their empty little skulls.  
  
She'd never realized how much it could _hurt._  
  
* * *  
  
Death looked away from the mirror in his study as the image of his granddaughter faded from view. The Death of Rats, which was perched on his shoulder, gave a squeak which somehow managed to convey sadness. He nodded slowly in response.  
  
SHE IS... HURTING, He said to the DoR and Quoth, who was watching from on top of the frame, AND I AM UNCERTAIN AS TO HOW I CAN HELP.  
  
SQUEAK! The Death of Rats said in a sympathetic tone.  
  
"Yeah, the rat's right," Quoth chimed in. "I don't think there's really much someone can do to help in a situation like this. Just lend a sympathetic ear if needed and time'll--" he cut himself off, mentally wincing at the turn of phrase. While it was true humans did get over this things eventually, time was really not something you wanted to mention right about now. "Anyway," he continued lamely, "she'll get over it one day. If nothing else I'm sure that someday another young man'll catch her attention and they'll be a lot happier then her and ol' what's his name were."  
  
Death's expression turned thoughtful. ANOTHER YOUNG MAN.... YES, THAT MAY JUST HELP. He waved his hand and a small rolled parchment appeared, which he handed to the Death of Rats. TAKE THIS TO HER. I AM INVITING HER HERE FOR HOGWATCH AND THEN... WE SHALL SEE.  
  
"Er, boss, that's not exactly what I..." Death began to walk away, apparently paying no attention to Quoth. "_Boss!_ she's not gonna like you meddling in her--" Death disappeared into thin air "--personal affairs." He glanced down at the Death of Rats who was nibbling a bit at the tallow sealing the letter shut. "There's no way this is gonna end well."  
  
SQUEAK, Death of Rats agreed empathetically, then dashed off himself to deliver the letter.  
  
* * *  
  
Susan stood in the corner of the room glaring balefully at almost anyone who dared to approach. The only person here she'd been willing to talk to so far had been Angua von Überwald, and only because she was one of the few adults Susan knew who could almost be considered a friend, since they both rented rooms from Mrs. Cake.  
  
She vaguely remembered a time in her very young childhood when she had loved these things. The music, the beautiful clothing, the graceful dancing... it had seemed like another world. Of course, now she'd been to a few _real_ other worlds (or at least parasite dimensions, which amounted to about the same thing) and there hadn't been shiny lights and pretty music in any of them. Well, other then when her grandfather was in a particularly festive mood, but it was best not to think about that.  
  
She wanted to fade out. She _really_ wanted to, and then she could just sneak out without anyone other then the magical guests noticing her. Sadly, she was unable to do this for the same reason she had to be there to begin with; people were finally beginning to notice her complete absence at all political and social functions and wondering whether it was a sign Sto Helit was turning against the other nations on the Sto plains. Despite the fact that she'd avoided going home ever since graduating from the Quirm College for Young Ladies she still cared about her country, and her people. Even with Queen Keli's support, if the other nations turned against her because of an imagined lack of goodwill, Sto Helit would surely fall. That was a risk she was unable to take, when the only reason for doing so was because she was feeling antisocial.  
  
So she stood silently in the corner, being bored to tears. She was finally beginning to search the crowd for anyone she'd want to talk to. _There's Ridcully. Of course, if I talk to him chances are I'll end up up in the middle of the fight against the latest unspeakable horror seeking to destroy the world. Oh, Jamie's here. Of course talking to him would just result in questioning about when I'm going to come home and settle down..._   
  
She was preparing to give up on hunting down companionship when a woman near the door--Lady Marassa of Genua, Susan recognised with a small smirk, an old classmate whom she'd particularly disliked--suddenly let out a chilling shriek and fainted dead away. In the hubbub that followed, as damn near half the room rushed to the Lady's aid and the other, probably all-in-all wiser, half began hunting for whatever had terrified the girl, almost no one noticed the tiny cloaked form that scurried across the floor straight to Susan.  
  
She sighed and knelt down, picking up the Death of Rats. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?" she asked it.  
  
It did it's best to give off an innocent air, which was rather spoiled by the fact that it was, after all, the animate skeleton of a rat. SQUEAK?  
  
"You know damn well what I'm talking about. You could have made yourself invisible to them."  
  
The rat gave up any pretence of innocence, and snickered. SNH SNH SNH. Despite herself Susan found the corner of her mouth twitching up in response.  
  
She decided that it was time to change the subject. "Is that for me?" she asked, even as she reached out to take the rat-nibbled parchment.  
  
SQUEAK it said helpfully, holding it up to her.  
  
She was about to read it when a firm hand landed on her shoulder. She turned to find a skinny balding man who she vaguely recognised as Commander Vimes of the Night Watch standing before her, along with Angua and a tall muscular man with bright red hair who could only be the Captain Carrot she'd occasionally heard about.  
  
"Is that your rat, Lady...?" Vimes let the sentence trail off into a question.  
  
"Miss." She replied in the same firm tone she used on students who tried to convince her during break time that answering a fairly simple history question was deserving of a gold star. It was a tone that quite clearly said that while she was willing to humour you for the moment, push too hard and you'd find you'd lost a... star, or two, "Miss Susan. No, he's not my rat. He's his own creature, though I suppose an argument made that he belongs to my grandfather. He was delivering a message, and apparently both has incredibly bad timing, and lacks the sense not to let himself be seen when entering a ballroom full of flighty twits who've been trained since childhood to faint at the mere _mention_ of anything the least bit 'creepy' so they can be seen as delicate and feminine and catch an eligible--" she cut herself off with a groan, squeezing her eyes tightly closed and rubbing her forehead. "I'm sorry. I'm just... I'm _really_ not in the mood to be here, and I guess it's making me a little crazy."  
  
When she opened her eyes again Vimes was edging away with the trapped look of a man who clearly couldn't deal with the problems of the fairer sex. Angua and Carrot both just looked sympathetic, though Carrot also seemed a little confused. Not surprising considering they didn't even know each other.  
  
"Right," Vimes said to her as he made his escape. "No one was actually hurt here, and no one seems to be panicing, so I suppose we can let you go with a warning. So long as no one else sees it." And then he was gone, Carrot following when Angua shooed him away.  
  
"Lobsang?" the werewolf asked sympathetically once the men were gone.  
  
"I'm sorry." Susan said, leaning against the the wall and pressing her cheek to the cool stone. "I know I'm being a complete wet blanket. If I could have seen myself like this a week ago I would have hated me. But... _God,_ I've never done this. I don't know how to deal with it," She sighed, mentally giving herself a few sharp slaps and pulling herself together. "Look, thank you Angua, for trying to help. I know... disturbingly few actual adults. It's surprisingly nice to have someone to talk to. But right now I really just want to go home and sleep until school restarts. And I think I've spent enough time here that I should be able to leave without anyone commenting on it." She smiled slightly at Angua, "I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
It wasn't until she was outside and the Death of Rats squeaked loudly that she remembered the note she still clutched tightly in her hand. She opened it up and read-  
  
--------  
  
Susan,  
  
If you have no other plans for this Hogwatch, I would like for you to spend the holidays here. If you chose to do so, feel free to come whenever you wish.  
  
Grandfather  
  
--------  
  
He wanted her to spend the Hogwatch with him. And, she realized suddenly, she'd like that herself. It would give her a chance to get away, and forget about Lobsang for awhile. And it would be nice to spend the holidays with family.  
  
She didn't let herself think about it for long, because she knew if she did she'd somehow convince herself to turn down the invitation. "Go back and tell him yes," she said to the Death of Rats. "Tell him to expect me tomorrow night. It's not like there's anything keeping me from there."  
  
SQUEAK! The Death of Rat's exclaimed, and disappeared.  
  
* * *  
  
Somewhere not that far away Death stood before a man who was slightly terrified, more out of habit then any real fear of the reaper.  
  
IT IS GOOD TO SEE YOU AGAIN. He said, I HAVE COME TO MAKE YOU AN OFFER YOU CAN NOT REFUSE... 


	2. Chapter Two: Convergence

Reaping Affection   
Chapter Two  
  
A quick warning I probably should have put in the first chapter: I got this account on ff.n so I could scribble out fics for all the pairings I'm ashamed of myself over having come up with them. I did do my best to push away the thoughts that they'd be good together, but then I got The Last Hero and Rincewind didn't really look that old. Plus in Last Continent it's said that in places the sand in his lifetimer's flowing backwards, which I chose to believe means he sometimes gets younger as time passes. So, um... *coughs* just be glad that I've managed to keep off any Ridcully/Susan bunnies thus far.  
  
Nothing here belongs to me  
  
* * *  
  
Susan stared into her closet full of monochromatic clothing, wondering what to bring for Hogwatch day itself. She didn't have anything really suited to the holidays, and while normally her clothing would fit into Death's realm perfectly well, she thought he might appreciate it if she actually managed to find something at least a little festive.  
  
Her hair was twisting and twining together like snakes in response to her aggravated mood as she dug through her clothing. She was sure her grandfather wouldn't actually mind if she never wore anything but her normal outfits, but this was the first holiday they were spending together since she was a very small child, and she'd be damned if she didn't at least make an effort to do something special!  
  
Finally, near the back of the closet, she found a red blouse she couldn't even remember owning. She stared at it a long moment, then threw it in her bag. It was shortly joined by necklace with a small emerald pendent that she'd inherited from her mother. It would have to do.  
  
She glanced around the room once more, seeing if there was anything else she'd want to bring. She had clothing, toiletries, a book to read, the papers she had to get around to grading before school started again...  
  
Gifts! She'd been putting off getting them since her grandfather was quite probably the hardest person in the world to buy for. And now she'd have to rush through it before nightfall. Albert would be easy at least, he was happy with the fattiest sausages she could find and a few bottles of Bearhugger's Old Selected Dragon's Blood Whiskey. On the other hand, with the stuffed bear she'd gotten last year she'd pretty much run out of World's Greatest Grandfather items, and she other then that she came up blank when choosing presents for Death.  
  
Well, she had a full day to look before she had to leave, so she might as well get to it. She sent her bags to her room in Death's house, then grabbed some money, and left.  
  
* * *  
  
Across town in Unseen University Rincewind, the world's most inept wizard, was just sitting down for breakfast. The night before he'd bribed the kitchen staff with what little money he had, and now the table was covered with every potato dish they could think of. He piled food onto his plate, ignoring the both the complaining of all the other wizards who were up, and the shaking of his own hands, intent on making this the most enjoyable meal he'd ever had. He rather feared it would be his last.  
  
TOMORROW YOU WILL COME TO MY REALM. Death had said. He supposed it was polite of him to have warned him, since apparently while he was capable of seeing Death, Rincewind lacked the power to see his own death coming. At least, he sure hadn't known he'd die today.  
  
Ignoring the glares from the few other wizards wake this early shot him he began shoving every dish that wasn't full of something to sloppy into the luggage, hoping that the old stories about things made of sapient pearwood following their owners into the next world were true. He doubted there would be many potatoes there.  
  
Very calmly he stood up, nodded to the Archchanceller, and left the room. He had to think. He had to plan. He had to _run._ No, no. He'd already saved his own life once (at least) by not running when he knew he was supposed to die. It had been the first time he'd met Death in fact. Of course that time he'd been told that he was supposed to die elsewhere, and had avoided it. Death wouldn't make the same mistake twice. Then again, it could be he was _supposed_ to think that, and that very day a statue would fall over and crush him in the university or something. He backed very quickly away from the one he happened to be standing next to.  
  
He could always go get drunk enough that he hopefully wouldn't even notice it coming until it was to late. Recently the Drum had started importing XXXXian beer, and though it was a bit pricey it wasn't like he had anything better to spend what little money he'd managed to save up on. Of course there was always the chance he'd then die of alcohol poisoning.  
  
He reached his own room, and his eyes settled on a flask of the sleeping potion the other wizards had forced him to start taking after he'd woken everyone up with his screaming a few too many times. He studied it for a long time, then sighed and carefully poured himself a small spoonful. It was less then the normal dose, but the heavens only knew that he'd end up overdosing and dying of that if he tried for a normal one. All things considered, he'd like to die in his sleep. Hopefully it would be painless then.  
  
He lie down on his bed, ignoring the way it shuffled a little underneath him as the vast amount of insect life tried to get into comfortable under his weight. A few minutes passed, then the potion kicked in and he fell into a sleep like the dead.  
  
* * *  
Susan sighed as she wandered the streets of Didjabringabeeralong. This was the fifth city she'd been to trying to find her grandfather a gift. Everyone else was easy, she'd gotten the butcher she'd bought Albert's sausages from to give her some entrails for Quoth, and she'd gotten the Death of Rats a meat pie. But her grandfather... what on earth did you get Death?  
  
She stopped outside a store seemingly devoted to picture frames, and thought hard. This store brought to mind one thing that she could give him which would actually be a thoughtful gift, but she really didn't want to do it. Then again, she hadn't even actually _seen_ it since leaving home; he'd get much more happiness from it then she did. Sighing she entered the store.  
  
Once in it became apparent that the frames were just in the front, there were actual paintings for sell in the back. Her lips twitched when she caught sight of one which was predominantly displayed. It was obviously an artistic impression of her grandfather, and a rather well done one at that. However, it showed him wreathed in flames, and wearing multiple robes of many colours over his skeletal form. For a brief moment she considered buying it for him as a joke, before realising that the small sense of humour he'd managed to develop over the years wouldn't find it funny.   
  
She glanced around, and grabbed the first nice frame she saw that seemed to be the right size. Really, she wouldn't have bothered at all except the one she was currently using had been ancient when she'd gotten it. She paid, then the universe blipped and she was in her room in the Sto Helit Palace.   
  
She immediately broke into a coughing fit as a large cloud of dust rose around her the moment she moved. Apparently the cleaning staff hadn't been doing their duty while she was gone. Then again, considering the fuss she used to raise whenever she noticed they'd been in had probably warned them off doing so unless she actually asked.   
  
The picture was still sitting on her desk, where it had been for as long as she could remember. She picked it up and examined it for a few minutes, eyes sad as she took in her parents' happy faces. She barely even remembered them, and while there were plenty of pictures of Mort and Ysabell around the castle, this was one of the few that had Susan herself in it as well. She'd still been to young to sit still long enough for many portraits when they'd died, and iconographs hadn't yet caught on.   
  
She carefully removed the portrait from it's dusty old frame, and into the plain wooden one she'd bought. She was pleased to see that it fit neatly.   
  
She sat down on the bed, then quickly stood again, and stripped off the dust entrenched covers and sat again on the relatively clean sheets. Luckily she hadn't dropped the other presents and wrapping materials she'd bought off at home, since now she could just wrap everything here and leave. It would be nice to do this somewhere where she could pass five seconds without sneezing, but she knew herself. She knew herself, she knew full well that she could easily talk herself out of this if she went home. She was still a little uneasy with the supernatural side of her life, even after the last year. A tiny section of her mind kept mummering that if she spent all that time in Death's realm she may not be able to return to the real world.  
  
The door suddenly flew open and a stern voice said, "Alright, who's in here?"   
  
Susan started, and stared at the stern-looking maid, who stared back with her mouth hanging open. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you," she said.  
  
"I... I... My lady! Is that you?" The maid dropped a rough curtsy, her eyes still not leaving Susan's face.  
  
"Yes. Again, I'm very sorry. I just came here to pick something up, then decided I might as well do my wrapping. If you could not mention the fact that I was here to anyone, that would be great."  
  
"Of course My Lady, whatever you desire. I'm so sorry that you had to find your room in this state, we just recalled that you preferred we not." She paused, then added, "If you'd like, I could do that for you," staring at the presents Susan was wrapping as though her mind couldn't comprehend the fact a noble woman was doing something so menial.   
  
"No, that will be quite alright. If you'll go back to your duties, I'll be done soon," Susan said, while neatly tying together the wrappings on Albert's sausages and neatly snipping off the ends of the string. For a brief instant it seemed that the woman would argue, then she turned away. "Oh, and if it wouldn't be to much trouble, could you see that someone comes in every so often and makes sure that the room doesn't get this dusty?" Susan called absentmindedly after her, while moving on to the Death of Rats' pie.   
  
"Of course, My Lady! Whatever you desire!" the woman replied, curtsying once more before closing the door.   
  
Susan managed to do the rest of her wrapping without incident, besides having to ignore the way her door kept opening a crack as various members of the housekeeping staff snuck down to get a peek at her. She was quickly remembering why exactly it was that she'd been avoiding her home like a plague for all these years.   
  
She gave one last glance around, checking for anything she may one day want since she was there anyway, then teleported herself to Death's home.  
  
* * *  
  
RINCEWIND, AWAKEN.  
  
The sleeping wizard didn't move an inch. Death tapped his foot, and nudged him with the end of his scythe. Rincewind let out a loud snore and drooled a bit on his pillow. Death glanced down at a small clinking noise at his feet. The Luggage had dropped a small bottle in front of him. It's label identified it as having contained a sleeping draught.   
  
If Death had eyes, he would have rolled them. OF COURSE. Perhaps he should have been clearer in it's invitation, but he had assumed Rincewind would take it as the friendly invitation it was, rather then some sort of threat. Clearly the man was still ore twitchy around him then Death had believed. That could be a problem.  
  
He snapped his fingers and the potion evaporated out of Rincewind's bloodstream. He woke with a jerk and a scream, then screamed again when he caught sight of Death. "I wanted to go in my sleep!" he said. "Is that so much to ask?"  
  
HOW DID YOU EXPECT TO RIDE THE HORSE? Death asked, slightly confused.  
  
"Ride the horse? I thought people went straight there."  
  
ONLY IF THEY GO IN SPIRIT FORM ALONE, AS YOU DID ON YOUR LAST VISIT.  
  
Rincewind was slowly realising that somewhere he'd apparently made a mistaken assumption about what was going to happen. Somehow, he was feeling even more unsettled then he did when he thought he was going to die. "Er, exactly what is it I'm going to your realm for anyway?" he asked, hoping that Death wouldn't somehow be insulted by the question.  
  
YOU WILL BE SPENDING THE HOLIDAYS THERE. I BELIEVE MY GRANDDAUGHTER WOULD LIKE SOME HUMAN COMPANY WHILE VISITING, AS SHE IS A BIT DEPRESSED THIS YEAR.  
  
_Granddaughter?_ For a second Rincewind's mind locked up at the thought, then the memory came to him from the last time of the beautiful yet insane young woman who'd tried to trap him and Twoflower there. Apparently she'd managed to snare some poor fool. Who knew what her daughter might turn out like, although the possibility of her being as crazy as her mother was slightly less terrifying then the concept of what Death might do if Rincewind turned down his hospitality. "Alright then, let's go."  
  
Death glanced around Rincewind's tiny, cramped room as though seeing it for the first time. I BELIEVE IT WOULD BE BETTER TO DO THIS IN THE HALLWAY.  
  
Rincewind followed him, wondering why he wasn't gibbering in terror. Of course, he realised, he was going to the one place (if he understood the laws of Death's little realm correctly) where there was no possibility of getting killed. Not being somewhere where he'd get killed was very important to Rincewind.  
  
Death's horse was standing in the middle of the hallway, apparently completely at ease despite it's surroundings. It seemed that the other wizards in the building were carefully avoiding the hall, since normally it was fairly busy and yet it was currently completely empty. In fact, as Rincewind and Death walked up to Binky the Dean walked around the corner, saw them, and quickly backpedalled. Most of the wizards living in the school were old enough that they would go several hundred miles out of their way to avoid contact with Death, just in case it triggered the memory that he'd forgotten he'd had an earlier appointment with them.   
  
Death gestured to Binky with his scythe and said, MOUNT.  
  
Rincewind looked at the saddleless, bridleless horse and grimaced. It wasn't that he couldn't ride a horse. He'd even ridden one of the other horses of the apocalypse before. Well, hung onto one of the other horses of the apocalypse with a deathgrip in a mostly upright position. Then there'd been that blasted XXXXian horse, although he'd thankfully managed to repress most of the memories of that ride. It's just that actually getting onto one was a bit of a hassle at the best of times, and seeing as Binky was a tall stately horse, and there was nothing other then his mane for Rincewind to drag himself up with, there was certainly an embarrassing scene waiting in the immediate future.  
  
Binky seemed to be thinking the same thing, since he calmly regarded Rincewind for a long moment and then slowly kneeled. Rincewind blinked at him, and he impatiently shook it's head back, as if to say 'Get on already!' So he did.  
  
BINKY WILL SEE YOU SAFELY TO MY HOUSE. A ROOM HAS ALREADY BEEN CREATED FOR YOU. MY MANSERVANT ALBERT WILL SHOW THEM TO YOU. I HAVE SOME WORK TO ATTEND TO BEFORE I CAN JOIN YOU THERE.  
  
Rincewind could only hold on tightly as Binky surged to his feet and into a steady trot while the walls of Unseen University seemed to dissolve around them. The trip only lasted a minute or so, but somehow that minute seemed to contain infinite smaller minutes pressing suffocatingly close around him. It would have been the most terrifying moment of his life, that is, if his life hadn't consisted of one horrifying event after another.   
  
Perhaps he could just walk back when the holiday was over. 


End file.
